Well Enough Alone
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: On April 29th, asks to get dropped off early at Andre's house during the ride back from the prom. One more night of indulging in his classmates' meaningless, trivial past-times was enough. Zero Day is close; there are more important things for Cal to pay attention to now.
1. Chapter 1- Cal's Excuse

**Chapter I- Cal's Excuse**

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**A/N: I was inspired to write this after watching the 2003 movie "Elephant", and reading the short fanfics "Words" by Eden Lies and "Two Kids, One School" by paradoxboom. I always believed Cal and Andre had a similar relationship to Eric and Alex, and that it was similarly incomprehensible to anyone not like themselves. Which, in the case of both pairs, is pretty much everyone. Doing my best to get around that, I wrote this to provide an insight into the very unique friendship Andre and Cal share. It shifts between Andre and Cal's perspectives, and takes place on April 29****th****, 2001, just three days before Zero Day takes place on May 1****st****. It's probably AU, and I personally don't see it as a sequel to my other "Zero Day" fanfic, "The Field". But, interpreting both of those stories and whether there's any connection between them is ultimately up to the reader, as is whether this story is AU or not.**

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Cal got out of the stretched Town Car, running as best he could up to the front door of the Kriegman's house. Running in dress shoes and a tuxedo is never easy, but Cal made it with surprising speed. Seeing the house silent and dark, Cal suddenly found himself nervous; he hoped Andre wasn't out still. His parents were supposed to have headed out of town to visit some family of Andre's tomorrow; had Andre changed his mind and gone with them?

Only one way to find out. Cal reached the storm door and swung it open with one hand, knocking hard twice on the Kriegman's front door with the other. "Andre?" Cal called, hoping his friend could hear him. His heartbeat picked up its pace when he didn't hear anything; Cal really hoped Andre had stayed here after coming back from work. Cal did not want to get back in that limo; the four hours he'd just spent at the Tielson High prom had damn near driven him crazy.

He didn't want to see those idiots anymore. Cal was about ready to start shooting now, three days ahead of time.

"Andre?" Cal called, knocking again. "It's me!"

"The key's under the welcome mat, jackass!"

Cal suppressed a snigger; Andre was so cute when he got annoyed. Everybody else thought Andre's fury intimidating, or even frightening- Cal could only admire someone with so much intelligence and so much fire. It was breathtaking to see sometimes. Andre was a visionary, and he had no time or patience for subtleties when something needed to be done. Outwardly, that wasn't Cal's way… but it only endeared him more to Andre. The two complemented each other perfectly.

Suddenly wondering what was keeping Andre from answering the door, Cal raised his voice again. "What are you doing, Andre?"

Shouting from upstairs, Andre said irritably, "I'm naked, goddamnit! I'm gonna take a fuckin' shower!"

Cal covered his mouth as he laughed; somehow, no matter how much Cal pushed Andre's buttons, the black-haired teen never blew up at him the way he was so quick to do with everyone else. Even now, he didn't really sound angry- just mildly annoyed.

Realising the limo was still parked at the curb, Cal turned and jogged back off the porch. Sitting beside the left rear door, Cal's date for prom, Rachel, opened the door as Cal got close. Leaning inside, Cal was instantly assaulted by noise, lights, and obnoxious kids in tuxedos. The thought returned to his mind, far stronger than before.

_If I stay with these morons another minute, I'm gonna go crazy._

But unlike Andre, who if anything actually felt less hate, less contempt, for idiots like these than Cal, the blonde was quite excellent at disguising his dislike. He simply did what he'd been doing all evening; put on a shy grin and turned his discontent into awkwardness. Right away Cal could see they were buying it, most of all Rachel. She was just so trusting, so willing to believe in the best in everyone. Briefly, Cal wondered if that would change after Zero Day. Maybe it would. That was too bad; if the world had more people like Rachel, things like Zero Day would not be necessary.

Cal paused, suddenly unsure of what excuse he'd use to leave. He didn't want to get back in the car, but these idiots were going to require, you know, a reason. Then Cal realised the most ridiculous thing he could say was also the truth. There was no way this bunch would believe it.

"Uh," Cal began awkwardly, "Andre's naked. So… I'm gonna go… meet him. Yeah."

The idiots stared, incredulous, for just a moment, then burst into laughter. One guy- was his name Frank? Fred- was holding a video camera, and had been the whole ride to and from the prom. A kid sitting in the middle of the rear seat, his name was probably Sam, turned towards the camera and said "_I'm_ the gay one."

The group in the limo argued about it for a minute, trying to decide whether to take this as an answer or not. Finally, a kid towards the front end of the car called over, "Just let him go; just let him go. It's fine, whatever he wants to do."

Cal's eyes flicked towards him- Greg, this one was called. Unrelated as he was to the other Greg, the one Cal and Andre so hated, Cal still disliked the name. Perhaps it was merely coincidence, but Cal had met more than six Greg's through middle and high school and disliked all of them within a day. This one was no different; Cal had spent half the car ride fantasizing about putting a bullet through Greg's forehead, just to see what it looked like afterwards.

Cal wanted to say, very sarcastically, _Why thank you, Greg_. _Thanks so much for granting me your permission to get out of a rented limo I paid $50 to ride in._

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Cal began backing away from the limo. But just as Rachel was about to close the limo's door on the chorus of "Bye, Cal!"'s that followed Greg's magnanimous decision, Cal reached out, took her hand, and in the perfect image of the chivalrous knight kissed it. Cal never even remembered anyone else's reaction later; he had already completely blotted them out. They were irrelevant; they'd ceased to exist.

But Rachel's reaction he did remember. Cal saw her expression go from being startled to more than a little pleased; she seemed to almost hope for such gentlemanly actions from Cal. Grinning roguishly as he wished her good night, Cal closed the Town Car's door and slowly turned, heading back up the walk to Andre's house. Running a hand through his loose, pale blonde hair, Cal stood for a moment, thinking as the black Town Car's taillights winked red as it rounded a corner and was gone. Cal hoped he wouldn't see Rachel on Zero Day; he hoped she'd do something totally out-of-character and skip school, or something else like that. Anything. Because Andre would be with Cal on Zero Day, and if Andre found her… he might just decide to up the ante on his long-standing dislike for her, and actually do something about it.

Cal shivered. It was late April, and not at all cold. But the thought made Cal nervous. Not even in the way most would have expected, though; Cal knew if he ever had to choose between Rachel and Andre he'd choose Andre, even if he had to make the choice a thousand times.

Why?

Well… Cal knew why, but even thinking alone it was hard to explain sometimes. Andre was more than an ordinary person, more than any ordinary friend. Cal was with Andre all the time; the two were as close as brothers, doing everything together. Even the most trivial, stupid activities, even the most meaningless conversations, took on a whole new existence when Cal was with Andre. Set against that, what chance did Rachel really have when the moment of truth came? She was a good friend, and Cal liked how she believed he was nothing but a good guy. Once, a long time ago, Cal had been nothing but. Time had changed him though, as had learning firsthand, starting by Cal's count in middle school, how the world _really_ worked.

Cal had grown up seeing the "nice guy" glorified in school, just as the "rebel", the one man standing alone against the tide regardless of how unpopular his choice was, received much the same treatment. But Andre had wisely pointed out, one time he and Cal had talked about this, that the same people now so ready to glorify Martin Luther King, Jr. had once been no less eager to elect a man called Wallace as Governor of Alabama. The same federal government that now was so ready to jump on the bandwagon and name a holiday after Dr. King could have given two _shits_ about him in 1965. The truth, Cal had come to realise between talking to Andre and his own thinking, was that the world professed to love nice guys but in reality delighted in crushing them and sneering at their weakness. The world claimed to admire rebels with a cause but in reality despised them, whether they had a cause or not.

Cal shook his head as he walked up the steps on the Kriegman's porch. Nice guys did exist, at least up to the end of the 5th grade and the start of the 6th. But sometime after that- it might take three years, it might take four, but in the end it almost always would happen- these 'nice guys' would either be dead literally, killed by system-supported bullying, or dead in spirit. They would have died inside rather than outside, and over time become mean rather than nice. What fascinated Cal was that while the Cal Rachel so wholeheartedly believed in was gone and had been for years, enough of him remained that Cal could flawlessly imitate the nice guy he'd once been.

Nice guys weren't a myth like so many girls now believed. They were simply being steadily weeded out by the American school system, learning some hard lessons in their teenage years about how the world _really_ worked.

Odds were, in time, most of the world's Rachel's would just forget guys like Cal. They'd go on to college and marry jerks like Brad Huff. He was good-looking, had the 'right parents', went to the 'right school', was confident in social settings and knew very well how to hide all his faults rather than make any effort to fix them. He was wealthy, his teachers handed him good grades- he was successful. Not yet eighteen years old and already a winner.

Girls at Tielson worshipped the Brad Huffs and then wondered why their relationships with them were shallow and devoid of meaning.

As Cal reached the porch, lifted the floormat, unlocked the Kriegman's front door and quietly stepped inside, he thought bitterly of those girls, who at the end of the day were hardly the minority at Tielson. They kept doing what they did best- giving materialistic, shallow idiots like Brad Huff just what they wanted- and then kept wondering why they couldn't find better boyfriends. _The two are related, you morons_, Cal thought. _The two are closely connected_.

Cal stood in the foyer of the dark Kriegman house; off to his right in the living room, a tall grandfather clock actually brought over from Germany ticked and tocked. It was the only sound in the house, besides the distant sound of water running as Andre took a shower upstairs.

Just thinking of Andre made Cal's anger fade; only a moment ago it had been building into fury. Beware the fury of a patient man, the saying went. Cal wanted to tell these idiots he was forced to call his classmates and teachers, "Nevermind Andre! He's pissed, but he's got nothing on me! It's the ones you never notice that you really need to watch!" Oh, how Cal wanted to tell them. But he couldn't. That would mean getting caught before the act, and that would bring Cal and Andre a fate worse than death.

"Andre's naked," Cal laughed quietly as he recalled the words he'd used as an excuse to ditch the morons in the limo ahead of schedule. It was funny how they better believed- and disbelieved- the truth sooner than they would have any story Cal could have made up. Without even realising it, without even meaning to, Andre had helped Cal out of a tight spot yet another time. Such was the nature of their friendship- nothing was ever so bad when they were together. It was like… Andre, when Cal was with him, could make his own luck and defy the arbitrary choices of fate. And vice versa for Cal. It was as if together, they were more than best friends, even more close than brothers. It was as if Andre and Cal were two names for two halves of one person.

Cal made his way up the pale wooden stairs, listening to the sound of the water running and spotting the light from under the main hallway's bathroom as he reached the top. The sound of the water brought an image to Cal's mind; his face burned in the dark when he realised he'd just tried to imagine what Andre looked like naked. But suddenly, he rejected that feeling of embarrassment, pushed away the feeling of shame. Who had a right to tell him what he could think of, even that? Was Brad Huff so influential that he could make Cal ashamed of his special friendship with Andre, even with Zero Day not even five days off?

No. To Hell with what anybody else thought. Brad would never know such meaning in his useless life as Andre and Cal had discovered in theirs. He was missing out, and if he wanted to sneer at the Andre's and Cal's of the world, call them all 'faggots', that was his choice. And his loss. Brad might survive Zero Day; he might not. But never, _never_ would he understand so much of the way the world worked as Andre and Cal had come to. Never would Brad be able to say he'd lived life so fully as them.

If fortune did indeed favour the bold, come May 1st Brad Huff would be most righteously fucked. Between them, Andre and Cal had enough boldness, enough brilliant cunning and iron will, to take on the Goddamned police, the Army, and if they felt like it the whole fucking world. Brad's stupid football drills and weight room workouts wouldn't do a damned thing for him on Zero Day. And Cal sensed that both he and Andre, especially since their preparations for Zero Day began, were in better physical shape than guys like Brad suspected. The Brad Huffs of Roger J. Tielson High School might be in for a big surprise on Zero Day; Cal's face displayed a sinister smile, one that would have shocked Rachel to the core had she seen it, when he thought of him and Andre meeting that big, dumb jock Brad Huff in close quarters. He wouldn't use a gun, though. Not Cal, not on Brad. Tielson's favourite jock deserved a less speedy fate.

Cal spotted the doorway to Andre's room open, down the hall about six feet on his right. Flopping down on the bed, Cal stared up at the ceiling. Briefly he wondered why Andre was taking so long, then realised he didn't really care. So little time was left now; there was no need to be in a hurry about anything.


	2. Chapter 2- The Lost Boys

**Chapter II- The Lost Boys**

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Andre Kriegman felt strange tonight. During his shift at Crazy Eights Pizza, he'd felt pretty normal. It had all been pretty routine; except, even then, as he'd been wiping the counters and closing up for the night, Andre realised he was doing this for the last time. When he punched his card and locked the back door, Andre had walked around front to meet his dad, waiting by the street. None of this was ever going to happen again. It was all at an end, because Andre knew he'd be dead in three days.

Knowing that was a strange feeling.

_Real_ strange.

As if all that hadn't been strange enough, Andre's father had let him drive home because he'd wanted to talk. Andre was near the end of his four years in high school; the elder Kriegman, telling Andre how proud he was of the progress his son had made, had no idea how hollow all of his word rung now. What made it so terribly awkward for Andre was how much his father seemed to mean it.

Andre found tears welling up in his eyes; he shook his head, grateful he was in the shower. What would Cal think of him, getting all choked up over his parents this close to Zero Day? Maybe Cal would understand, though. He was good at that sort of thing. Andre cared about his parents; he'd never hidden that of all things from Cal, who felt much the same way about his family. The hurt Zero Day would cause the Kriegman and Gabriel households was painful to even imagine… but there was simply nothing else for it. What had to be done, had to be done. People needed to realise what was really important in life, grow the hell up and value it while they still had a chance. Andre smiled a little; he knew what he valued, and among all his friends one name stood out the most- Cal Gabriel.

Cal! Andre swore as he realised his blonde friend had been at the door at least twenty minutes ago. Normally, Andre's showers were much faster, but he'd started dragging them out some two weeks ago. Why rush the process of becoming clean- and admiring the results of those pushups and early morning runs- when soon enough he'd never do anything, ever again?

Why indeed?

But time was important now; Cal was probably sitting in the living room downstairs, wondering just what the hell was going on. Andre had been so excited when Cal had asked if he could stay overnight after the prom; they'd talked about it when Andre had learned his folks would be going out into Galton County over April 30th, visiting Chris and some of his folks. It was understood they'd be doing some of the remaining work and video entries; little remained to be done, but there was enough to keep both Andre and Cal occupied over the last two days before Zero Day.

But Andre hadn't been excited just because of that; the little leap of joy his heart had taken when Cal had asked to come over hadn't just been about Zero Day.

Andre had always wanted Cal to know he'd have a place to stay at the Kriegman house. Even if the Kriegman's and Gabriel's hadn't gotten along as families, Andre would have snuck out of his room to let Cal in at 2 in the morning. He'd have done that and so much more, had it come to that. Andre had told Cal of this, promised Cal that there'd be a bed in Andre's room for him if ever Cal needed it. That had been about a year or two ago, sometime after he and Cal had begun their planning for Zero Day. Even then, though, Andre had understated his offer, not wanting Cal to take it the wrong way. Or the right way… Andre just wasn't sure. But he was certain of one thing.

He'd have slept on the floor of his own room had Cal so much as asked. Without even the slightest hesitation. And if Cal had wanted to share the bed, well… Andre probably would have done that, too.

The black-haired teen turned off the shower and got out, reaching out for the towel he'd tossed on the toilet nearby as he stood on the lime-green floor mat. The bathroom was pretty steamed up; Andre had to take a few steps across the tiles to wipe the mirror clear, then step back to see anything but a blurry shape. Looking his naked form up and down in the mirror, Andre nodded again, smiling as if satisfied.

He looked good.

Andre wrapped the white towel about his waist and began making his way to his room. He liked the feel of the cool pinewood floor under his feet, liked being alone in the house at night when his parents went out.

But even that didn't compare to being with Cal. Nothing did. Andre suddenly felt a surge of indignation at Sean Parson, Omar Walters and Brad Huff- at all those idiots- for every time any one of them had called Andre or Cal a 'faggot'. The term had been applied to both of them by the school's much-worshipped football elite many times. _Naturally_, Andre _fumed, _anyone_ who is smarter than a jock or has better depth in a friendship than a jock- or wears different clothes than are jock-approved- _must_ be a faggot. Naturally_.

And so the hell what if… well… so the Hell what if he and Cal _were_? Anger came quick to Andre and always had, and it pulsed through him now as he walked down the hallway, thinking in the dark. What did it matter if, just by chance, Andre decided he liked Cal's ass just the same as a blonde cheerleaders? It was nobody's Goddamned business.

Andre was so focused on all this that he almost walked into Cal, who was stooped over a pile of clothes in Andre's room, rubbing at his messy blonde hair with a towel. Apparently he'd been showering, too.

Reflexively, Andre stuttered, "Uh-dude- what the fuck?" and quickly averted his eyes, attempting to force the image of Cal's bare ass out of his mind. His face reddened when he found he wasn't succeeding.

Cal turned and snatched up the towel at the same time; Andre, finding his eyes wander again, noted surprise at two things: Cal wasn't _all_ blonde, and apparently, he'd been working out on his own, too. Cal didn't look so easy to push around anymore.

The blonde teen hurriedly wrapped the towel about his waist again, smiling in embarrassment as he saw his friend come into the room. "Uh, hey," Cal said shyly. "You were taking a little while, so I, uh, thought I'd take a shower too."

Andre walked over to his dresser, standing there as he secured his own white towel at his waistline. "Yeah, but _you_ didn't have to shower after a whole night of working at the fucking pizza joint, dude."

Cal smiled. "Well, I'm sorry I missed that."

"What, me _showering_?" Andre's face turned hot the instant he said that, and from the pinkish tinge Cal's face took on, he'd done about the same thing when he heard it. "Uh, no- no, I meant… working at Crazy Eights. Yeah. The pizza place must be fun."

Andre leaned back against the dresser, folding his arms over his chest. It still amazed him sometimes that he even had biceps to talk about now, let alone muscles on his chest- pecs, were they?- of any note. Physical strength had never come easily to Andre; like Cal, he'd quickly come to equate P.E. class with embarrassment in middle school, and had avoided all things associated with it- like the weight room- as if they were the plague.

"Dad says I have bigger things in life ahead of me than that. Says I shouldn't stay there and become the head pizza man."

Cal smiled again, in that shy way he seemed to be faking with so many other people, but he always seemed to mean when he was with Andre. It was like Cal was hoping he was good enough, up to the standard of being Andre Kriegman's friend. It was a funny way of thinking if that was the case, when you considered that Andre applied essentially the same rule to himself.

"Yeah," Cal said, "I think you shouldn't do a career at Crazy Eights".

"Really?" Andre said, his voice light and sarcastic. "I dunno, man. I was thinking about it."

Cal looked up. "I'll crack your skull on the floor if you try." He was smiling, but the smile had taken on a cunning, mean look- like he was only half kidding.

Andre laughed a little; he found that so much easier to do when he was with the best friend he'd ever known. If you couldn't joke and laugh with someone like that, a person who knew you better than anyone you'd met in your life, who could you relax with? Nobody. Nobody at all.

But he assured Cal with his next words that all was well, that he'd never abandon the plan.

"I know you wouldn't," Cal said quietly, calmly. "You're too _good_ for hanging around some bullshit fuckin' pizza place. You deserve _better_ than that." Cal's voice took on an indignant tone; he sounded genuinely pissed off, all of a sudden, and really seemed to mean it.

"Did you really go to the prom?" Andre said, feeling like an idiot as he saw the folded-up tuxedo on the floor.

"Yeah," Cal said, shivering a little as a breeze from the hallway hit him.

"So, how'd it go? Going with fuckin' Rachel and all?" Andre was vaguely curious about all that; even Cal seemed to have no idea why he'd chosen to take Rachel Lurie to the prom. Maybe it was like visiting the zoo one more time before going out and fighting the blue cat-monkey-things on Goldilocks' Crate or whatever that dumb planet in that stupid movie had been called. Have a look at the morons, the lower life forms, and remind yourself why you hate them so much. Why they need to be killed. Maybe it was Cal's version of the WWII newsreels, the ones that had used the title "Why We Fight".

Cal shrugged, folding his arms as he sat on the side of Andre's bed; his arms, like Andre's were still lean, but far stronger than they'd once been. There was real substance to them now. "I went. I know what you think of Rachel, but she was nice to me. Everybody _else_, though…" Cal's lip curled in a sneer. "I hope we blow 'em all away."

"May 1st, man." Andre smiled, and so did Cal, at that reminder of the big day. It made them both nervous and excited to think about. You couldn't help but feel your blood quicken its pace through the veins, a little adrenaline added into the mix, at the thought of your one day of god-like revenge and glory. It was awesome to think about… and it was just a day or two away.

Andre asked suddenly, "Did you kiss her?" He wanted to know that for some reason.

Cal looked up; he'd been staring off at the carpeted floor in Andre's room again. "Huh?"

The dark-haired teen repeated the question. "You know, fuckin' Rachel." He could barely stand her, even less than most people. It was all he could do to keep swearing whenever Rachel's name was mentioned, and as this conversation was showing, Andre often failed even at that.

The blonde stared back at the carpet again. "Oh… no. I mean, I know you worry about me and her being more than 'just friends-" Andre's face burned with embarrassment as he realised how he'd been thinking of just that during his shift at the pizza place tonight- "But she's just my friend. I took her to the prom, those idiots in the car got her home."

"Besides," Cal added, "I thought I'd come by and see my _real_ friend."

A silence fell between them, neither awkward nor completely at ease. Both boys stared at the floor, the ceiling, and occasionally, each other. Both, in their own way, spent a few moments thinking of how even this moment, odd though it perhaps was, said a lot about how unique and truly special their friendship was. They could stand there in a room together, one step away from completely naked, and it didn't bother either boy anywhere near as much as it would have most people.

Cal was thinking about Andre, again reflecting on how pissed off he so often was. Andre and Cal were alike; so alike, in fact, that they truly were more similar than different. Cal really did feel no less anger, no less hate and contempt, for the stupid drones that called themselves people at Tielson High, living their useless, meaningless lives. Having so much at so early an age, and yet somehow managing to not appreciate or value one single piece of it. Cal was just as furious as Andre, yet he really could lock it inside and hide it, for just as long as he wanted.

Andre couldn't do that. He frequently looked angry under his reflective sunglasses because he nearly always was. Andre almost consciously refused to control his anger, to make any effort to learn the kind of discipline with it that Cal had long ago acquired. He would take on any jock in a fight, tell any prep to go screw himself. Andre had even told the principal of his middle school that once, taking a $50 bet from Kevin Rainbolt. It had cost Andre two weeks' suspension and one hell of an ass-chewing from his parents, but all three of them- Andre, Kevin, and Cal when he found out about it years later- had thought the stunt absolutely hilarious. And it said perfectly how stubborn and openly defiant Andre seemed actually proud of being.

He liked the fact that he had little control over his emotions; he wanted people to know he was angry the instant he felt it. Because to Andre, being able to read somebody's emotions was useless if you couldn't also read their mind, or see their heart. The dark, murderous flames that burned in Andre were hidden well from the world; in the end, it was really just as effective as Cal's way of hiding what he knew… except Andre, with the temper he had, could just as easily do something stupid and get thrown in jail, ruining the plan for good.

Cal was glad that hadn't happened.

The black-haired teenager, the one everybody called Andre, was for his part feeling a vague sense of relief. He spent a few moments arguing with himself, telling himself it wasn't because he was glad Cal hadn't kissed Rachel because… well, because that would have messed up the plans for Zero Day, quite possibly. That was why.

Then Andre diverted his mind elsewhere, thinking back on how long they'd known each other. Kevin Rainbolt was a guy he'd known longer, and the two had always been on good terms. But Kevin was almost Andre's equivalent of Rachel, save for the fact that Cal got along with Kevin instead of hating him. The point was that Kevin was just a good guy, a friend Andre had known for years. He believed too much in the good side of man, despite having many of the same disillusioned attitudes that had driven Andre and Cal to make plans for Zero Day. Had Andre talked to the sandy-brown-haired Rainbolt boy, asked him a few questions and sounded him out as a candidate for Zero Day, Kevin would have said no. He'd have thought about it, and Andre was pretty sure Kevin would have kept his mouth shut about it afterwards. But he'd still have said no.

And besides, Andre knew Kevin would be hurt very bad by Zero Day; he'd be "the murderers' friend", and no doubt Chris Kriegman would suffer a similar fate. The less he knew the better.

No, at the end of the day even Kevin Rainbolt, despite having known Andre for a longer period of time, couldn't compare to Cal Gabriel. Nobody could. Andre felt a sense of quiet pride as he looked at Cal, at the smooth, pale shoulders and biceps he'd no doubt spent hours getting into "fighting shape". Both he and Cal had done that on their own time- why Andre wasn't sure, but maybe it was just one of those things they'd decided to still do alone. And it impressed Andre, made him feel truly proud, to see such visible proof of how even alone they'd succeeded together. They were really coming up in the world.


	3. Chapter 3- A Sense of Freedom

**Chapter III- A Sense of Freedom**

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Feeling a need to break the silence, Andre looked at Cal curiously. "Dude- what the hell are we both sitting here for like this?"

Cal seemed a little confused. "What?"

"Dude, we're both took showers and we're both standing here in a towel. Why don't we fuckin' put on our clothes or something?" Andre didn't have any idea what was going on here. Why were they both acting like this? Why had Cal gone to take a shower, too? This was all so weird. It was like a bad porno or something. _Andre and Cal Make a Porno_, a crazy voice in Andre's mind whispered. _That's a laugh_.

Andre started to gather some of his clothes out of the dresser and turn to leave Cal alone for a minute, but Cal said quietly, "Where are you going?"

Andre turned back, frowning in confusion. "Uh, dude, don't you wanna get changed?"

"Don't you wanna watch?"

Andre stared at Cal, dumbstruck. Had he heard that right? No, there was no way. No way that was what Cal had said.

The dark-haired teen had to clear his throat before speaking; he felt oddly nervous for some reason. He looked at Cal, incredulous. "Uh… what?"

Cal was staring resolutely at the floor now; it was as if he'd had to work up real courage to say those words once, and was having trouble even trying to say them again.

"I mean, um…" Cal trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "I, uh… I just mean, you can watch. Um, if you want." Cal's face burned with embarrassment; he had no idea how he was even saying this. This was crazy, absolutely insane. But here they were, the both of them, poised to die by their own hand in just three more days. It left Cal, especially, feeling a very devil-may-care attitude he hadn't before. To Hell with it, Cal thought as he stared down at the carpet, trying to fade the pink from his pale cheeks. I'll do whatever I wanna do.

Andre was floored, absolutely speechless. He just stared for a few moments, finally managing to say, "And why would-why would I want to do that?"

Cal shrugged, this time very shyly indeed. "Well," he said quietly even in the silence of the house, "Maybe you wanna watch me. You know."

"Do I?" Andre's voice was a little hoarse.

A few more moments passed in silence, neither boy knowing really what to say or do. Growing up, the idiots always made sure to tell you about the Evils of Sex Before Marriage, and of course the pinnacle of the K-12 educational experience, The Prom. They always gave you some generic, half-baked rundown of those things, really leaving you no better off than if they'd told you nothing. But situations like this? No. Nobody had ever prepared either of them for this.

Cal thought about all the times he'd seen a girl in school, wanted to go up and talk to her because she was pretty. That was pretty much always the reason, too; because she was pretty. Not her personality, or her intelligence- it was her ass Cal had always noticed first. The thought made him ashamed; how was he really any better than Brad Huff, when you considered that?

But then there might be that one time in your life, Cal had years ago theorized, where you want to do It with somebody, maybe hoped for a chance, at least, to achieve that level of intimacy, just because of how much that person meant to you. Cal believed such things went beyond the laughable human tendency to restrict and categorize the issue; for most people, especially the hopelessly immature American teenager of the modern age, that was as far as it went. Bi, gay, straight. Three choices and the first two are morally and politically wrong. Was _that_ freedom? Cal wondered about that one a lot. Just one more example of how hypocritical people were.

The bed's springs squeaked a little bit as a new weight was added on Cal's left; Cal glanced over, surprised, and saw Andre sitting beside him. Andre was a big talker in their videos; he was the one going on the rants, making the speeches. But for all he had to say, there were times when he just couldn't find words at all.

But Cal could read people pretty well. The two boys were sitting side by side; Andre locked eyes with Cal, and it seemed for a moment like they were talking to one another without even using words. It's alright, Andre seemed to say, staring with his brown eyes through the moonlight. I understand. And nobody- nobody in the world- has a right to judge us or tell us no. We, far more than them, are truly free.

Cal heard Andre say, "Uh, dude… you know something? I'm glad you didn't kiss Rachel."

The blonde could barely hear his own reply. "Yeah, me too."

Andre reached forward, putting a hand on the back of Cal's neck and drawing him close. They kissed, Cal closing his eyes just like you always saw people do in the movies. He loved the feel of the lips pressed against his, soft but firm much as Andre himself was. Cal just closed his eyes, sighing a little as he reached a hand down under Andre's towel. The black-haired teen grunted in surprise, broke away and said "What?," sounding startled. But he reached for Cal, drew him close and claimed another kiss. Soon, Cal's hand was moving fast under the towel, and Andre was kissing Cal again and again, moving from his face to his shoulders, then Cal's neck, then back to his lips again. Then, Cal grabbed Andre and rolled him onto the bed, clasping his shoulders and kissing him before Andre could say anything. Cal's towel had fallen off his waist, and Andre tossed his aside like it didn't exist. Cal felt adrenaline surging through him; he'd never told Andre, but he'd actually been with a girl before. He'd slept overnight at Megan West's house one time in the eighth grade; she'd been a tall, pretty girl from Tielson High, and a friend of Cal's had called a friend of hers. They'd met, after hanging out for a while and seeing everybody else had gone home, Megan had simply asked if Cal, not yet fifteen, had 'been with anyone'. When Cal, so shy he'd wanted to curl up and die rather than give an answer, had shaken his head no, Megan had almost carried Cal up to her room. Cal had never been so excited in his life… but even that, not even sleeping with Megan West, had been anything like this.

Cal held himself up with his arms, hovering over Andre as the black-haired teen set a hand on him. Cal sighed, closing his eyes at the touch of Andre's fingers. He was hard iron down there; Cal had never felt so good, known such raw pleasure, in one instant. It was almost too much. But after a few moments he lay down on Andre, loving the feel of everything- the bed, his own racing adrenaline… and Andre. Then the two rolled, facing each other side by side. Then it was Andre who was over Cal, then Cal again. Cal moaned softly and kissed Andre, and after a moment he realised Andre was moaning too. The two teenagers' bodies, still warm and moist from the shower, rubbed smoothly together until they almost seemed to blur, the very image of what both had each thought of themselves- two halves of one person.

Afterwards, Cal lay in bed beside Andre, his lower half covered by the comforters, but still nothing else. Andre, dressed- or rather not- just the same, lay beside him, both staring up at the ceiling. "I, uh, I've never done anything like that before," Andre said, laughing nervously. "I don't know why I did that."

"Does it matter, Andre?" Cal said, his voice calm and reflective. His balls still throbbed from earlier; the fading adrenaline in his veins left an aftertaste so delicious there wasn't a drug in the world that could even equal it. What did it matter, the 'why' of such things? It had been a great moment of release for the both of them. Just getting all the pent-up bullshit out of the system.

Maybe setting aside just one hour of just one day for the person who meant more to you than anyone or anything, the person you literally had chosen to die beside, was just what Andre and Cal had needed. Feeling the comforters hug his slim, naked form closely, Cal thought about everything and nothing all at once. He knew Zero Day had given him all this- made such opportunities possible. It had freed him and Andre from all the world's bullshit, from the rules and judgments of a society filled with hypocrites.

What the hell did any of this matter, as far as _why_ went? It wasn't like he and Andre were gonna be including this in any of their video diaries. It was nobody's fucking business what they did with their time when the camera was off- which, when you really considered it, still was most of the time. And it wasn't as if he and Andre were going to be getting all bitchy about 'rights', or wanting to marry and adopt some poor kid to whom they'd always have to explain why he had two fathers. Cal had no real opinion of those who did do those things; all he knew, all he concerned himself with, was the fact that none of it mattered to him. None of it mattered because in three days he would be dead.

How was he supposed to care about society's judgment, or the God worshipped by the very people he hated, when Cal knew perfectly well he and Andre had both stepped beyond such constraints? Those issues, and so many more, were irrelevant. All Cal cared about was he was spending the best night of his life with the best friend- no, best _person_- he'd ever known. Cal didn't want it to end, any of it- but even as this thought came to him, Cal realised and accepted that… it would _have_ to end. Zero Day was the plan, the mission- Cal and Andre's purpose in life. Nothing else mattered.

But Andre, normally the shameless and confident one, now was much the opposite. Shrugging his bare shoulders, Andre said, "Well, I mean… _dude_." He laughed nervously, unsure of what else to say. "If Brad Huff could _see_ us, man…"

"_Fuck_ Brad Huff," Cal spat, his voice pure venom.

Andre stared over at his friend, amazed.

"What the fuck does _he_ know, Andre? Why the fuck do you even _care_?"

"I just wanna see you blow his brains out on Zero Day," Andre said. "It'll look about as good as you do." Andre considered, smiling a little at Cal. "Well, _almost_."

Cal laughed, staring up at the ceiling again with his hands folded behind his head. "Yeah," Cal said quietly, "Almost."

A few moments of comfortable silence passed; neither boy gave a shit about what anybody would think of this now. Cal had made his point, and Andre had been thinking similar things earlier anyway. It was nobody's fucking business.

"You know what I hate?" Andre said quietly. Despite his words, his voice was more reflective than angry. Cal smiled when a thought came to him; that maybe a good fuck had done Andre more good than even Andre realised. If Andre had been tense and pent-up about his impending death before, he was much less so now. It made Cal feel truly good to know he could help in that way.

"What?" Cal asked back.

"I hate cruelty."

Cal sniggered, and Andre turned his head, a little surprised and offended. "What?"

"You're just such a, uh… _nice_ guy, Andre. I'm surprised you'd say that," Cal said, trying to suppress laughter and not doing a spectacular job of it.

Finally catching Cal's meaning, Andre shook his head, lying back on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom again. "No, man," he said, "I'll be fine with giving everybody hell on Zero Day. I mean, it's what needs to happen."

"Right," Cal said, completely sure of himself. There was no other answer.

"What I can't stand," Andre continued, "is cruelty without a point. I mean, if you're gonna kill a million people to win a war, or save the lives of billions down the road, fine. Do it whatever way you want." Now, as he spoke his next words, Andre started to sound pissed again. Cal listened; whenever he got to talking like this, Andre always meant what he said.

"I can't take cruelty with no point, man," Andre repeated. "It fuckin' _pisses me off_. Who gave these assholes the right to shit all over ordinary kids, just because they _can_? That's sadism. I'm not a fuckin' sadist, Cal."

"Right," the blonde nodded in affirmation. "You're a psychopath."

Andre laughed, his deeper chuckle calm and at ease. "Fuck you, man."

"Already did, remember?"

Even in the moonlight Cal could see Andre's face flush crimson; he reached over and punched Cal hard on the shoulder. But he was smiling.

"Yeah," Andre said sarcastically, "How could I forget the lousiest fuck I ever had?"

"You mean the _first_ and _only_," Cal sniggered.

That bought him another punch on the shoulder, this one a little harder. Andre had always been intensely embarrassed about that part of his life; it hadn't been easy to say a thing about it, even to Cal. Briefly, Cal wondered if he hadn't somehow planned all this out, subconsciously decided to do it. Why? To set that part of Andre free, Cal guessed. To let him forget that, and forget it forever.

"Go to hell, man," Andre said, still trying to be angry and not succeeding too well. "Next time I'm just gonna get some hot _girl_ over here and pound the shit out of her vaj, and you can stay home and jerk it. You got me?"

That just made Cal laugh once more. "Yeah. You'll probably invite me over for a threesome so you can see _me_ with my clothes off again."

"I- ah, goddamn it, man. Just shut up," Andre said, giving up and laughing some more. Inwardly, Cal nodded to himself. Andre definitely felt better, more free. That was for the best and nothing else. It made Cal feel free, in turn, knowing he had done that for his friend.

Turning serious again, though, Andre said, "You know what I mean, dude. Right? I can stand any amount of cruelty but it _has_ to have a _point_. Otherwise that's fuckin' sadism. And it's over shit like that that we're doing Zero Day."

Finally, Cal nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I know what you mean."

About a minute passed, both teenagers silently occupied with their own thoughts. But unlike before, when a million different fears, doubts, joys and angry thoughts had been swirling around in their heads, now there was just contentment, acceptance of what was to come. And perhaps, better than all that, a sense of peace, of finally being free.

Andre got up after another minute or two, saying something about making sure he had his clothes set out for tomorrow. Cal stopped him, though, reaching a hand out and setting it on Andre's shoulder. Cal loved every second of what had happened tonight, of what was happening. He didn't want it to end.

"Just lie with me for a little while, alright?" Cal asked. "I just… you know. Let's just sit for a while, think about stuff. You know?"

Andre briefly looked at Cal in the moonlight shining in through his window, then lay back down and joined Cal under the covers. He instantly felt better, more safe and at peace, when he felt Cal's pale shoulders beside his. Settling back down on the bed, Andre felt like he understood what Cal meant so perfectly, words were obsolete. There was no need for them, not between himself and Cal. But Andre decided to go ahead and add something anyway. "Yeah, man," Andre said quietly, "I know what you mean."

_If I lay here_

_If I just lay here_

_Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?_

_-Snow Patrol, "Chasing Cars"_


End file.
